


Second Christmas

by notjustmom



Series: Derisive [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas fic, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21559693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: These boys are from my "Derisive" story, if you haven't read it, basically, they had met in their late teens/early 20s, Myc was a poet, Lestrade was a busker, they lived together, then Lestrade moved to the States for a while, had asked Myc to go with him... anyway, they meet up again later in London, Lestrade is married, Myc is Myc, eventually they end up together again after Sherlock's faked suicide... so this is the story of the second Christmas they spend together, Lestrade knows Sherlock is still alive, while John has been kept in the dark... hopefully you will get an idea of them even if you haven't read the other story... and off we go:
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Derisive [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/454063
Comments: 18
Kudos: 34
Collections: Mystrade Holiday 2019





	1. Chapter 1

"Where do you think he is?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your brother."

"Oh. Right. Last time I heard he was in Berlin."

"Berlin. Myc?" Greg walks over to where he is sitting, holding onto his drink, swirling it, as he always does when he's lost in his thoughts, but Greg can tell he's not really there. "Hey."

Mycroft blinks up at him and shrugs. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine. It's only human to feel guilt about him being gone."

"I don't."

"Myc. It's me. I know you."

"You knew me a short period of time -"

"Bollocks. I know you, I know you feel responsible for him, and you know you should've, at least Sherlock should have told John what was going on, and now you think it's too late. Look at us, it's never too late until it's too late. He'll make it home, Myc." 

Mycroft put his tumbler down carefully on the table next to him, and leaned into Greg, then sighed and closed his eyes as the rough, calloused fingers played with his hair. "He'll make it home, Myc, he's so much stronger now than he used to be, he'll be fine, because John needs him to be, because you need him to be. And we are going to be fine, too."

Mycroft lifted his head and looked up at him, and shook his head. "How -"

"I told you that I know you." He slowly knelt in front of him and reached out to cradle his face in his hands. "I know you, Mycroft Holmes. I know you and I love you, even if you drive me batshit crazy at times, there is nowhere else I want to be, no one else I want to be with. You are it for me. Besides, I'm gettin' too damn old to fall in love with anyone else, and I know my heart can't take it if you let me leave again, or if -"

Mycroft leaned in close and breathed against his lips, "you - you have been the only one, ever, for me," then kissed him lightly, and offering him a hand, helped him to his feet. "Happy Christmas, Gregory."

Greg's warm brown eyes flickered at him as he whispered, "Happy Christmas, Myc."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and a bump in the rating...

Mycroft watched from the bed as Greg undressed, and he was reminded again how little he had changed over the years. Yes, the dark curls had been shorn into an institutionalized silvered buzz cut, and the laugh lines were deeper, but as he climbed in next to him, and gently lifted his chin with a single finger, as if to bring him back from whatever planet his mind had gone to, he was still very much the man he remembered from so many years ago.

"Nope."

He raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded. "Sorry."

"Just be here with me, now, hmm? I know I'm a bit creaky, and softer at the edges -" he inhaled sharply as Mycroft reached for him and let his long fingers travel down his back, stopping at each blemish, each scar that hadn't been there the first time they had found each other, until his hand stopped, then curved around his hip and pulled him where he wanted him, where he needed him to be. "Myc."

"We still fit together."

"We always did." Greg managed to whisper before he lost the ability to speak as Mycroft began to move against him.

"You, just - hmmm."

Greg pressed a single kiss over his chest, and he wondered again at the idea that he alone was aware that the heart of a poet thudded nearly out of control beneath his lips. At the moment, however, the man who had constructed a life from his ability to out talk anyone, was beyond language, beyond even thought, and the normally ice-blue eyes were blown dark, as Greg threaded their fingers together, and they moved as if they hadn't missed a single night in three decades. He closed his eyes tightly as Mycroft arched against him, and his fingers wrapped around his cock, stopping time as he kissed him, stealing the moan from his lover's mouth as he came hard into his hand. He grinned down into the face he loved so well, and knew from experience that he would be essentially immobilized for at least the next six hours. "Love you, Myc."

"Uhmmhmhm."

He sighed, and slowly rolled off the bed, returning with a warm, damp flannel, and watched as Mycroft shivered slightly while he washed him; he let himself think back to the very first time he had done this, in the tiny hole in the wall that they shared then, the paint covered sink that had seen generations of artists come and go - he froze as Mycroft's hand rested on his and the eyes that were nearly silver gazed up at him, and he nodded, then tossed the cloth at the hamper and easing down into the waiting arms, closed his eyes against the memories that no longer haunted him.

"Love you, too."


End file.
